


Never Been to Belize

by VivWiley



Category: Ocean's Eleven (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivWiley/pseuds/VivWiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night turned infinitely hotter and infinitely more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Been to Belize

**Author's Note:**

> An Ocean’s 11 Story for Angstville. You must blame her for this.
> 
> Ocean’s 11, and the characters of the movie are the property of Warner Brothers, etc. No profit will be made, no credit will be taken, no names will be named. This story never happened.

_Hollywood, CA  
The day after Danny’s release from prison_

It hit him in the pit of his stomach. The splash of dark reality in the room that he smelled, tasted even before he saw Danny sitting across the table. He was there – somehow a thousand times more real and alive than the combined presence of the pack of Teen Beat boys and girl. Even as the changeable eyes met his across the table, he felt the prickling along his skin, the call of something that he thought he’d maybe just imagined. For a brief second he allowed himself to feel the disappointment, “he didn’t call.” But that didn’t matter in the face of his simply being there.

It surprised him later how calmly he was able to slide back into his spot at the table. To pick up the “lesson” which turned into the closest thing the kids were ever likely to see that would actually stick in their minds after the alcohol had evaporated the next morning.

Danny was back. 

Rusty had heard rumors, of course. But the old gang had fallen apart during the last four years. Hell, he’d walked away from most of it. Without Danny at the center, there was something missing. The guys who were left were both too much and too little on their own. The group had too many memories. Too many old traps. It was time for a clean…or at least fresh start.

But Danny was back and he had that familiar dark light in his eye. The old rhythms came back so quickly – the exchange of words, the subtly control of the conversation between them, steering and guiding their marks exactly where they wanted them. The effortless partnership. God he’d missed it.

In the car after Danny had lightly fleeced the kids, he tried to keep it light. The casual banter an easy shield to hide behind. “How was the Clink? Did you get the cookies I sent?” 

He could hear Danny’s silent laughter before the answer. He really had sent cookies in a fit of something that in another person might be called sentimentality. “Why’d you think I came to see you first?” But of course, there was more to it than that.

As Danny explained the scheme, Rusty felt the excitement twisting up through his gut. Danny had always dreamed big, but this was ridiculous. It was impossible. It was possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. It was the only thing he could see in his future.

He’d been sold as soon as he saw the look in Danny’s eye at the restaurant, but leaving the architects’ office, he’d had to make Danny explain it. Had to push. “I need a reason, and don’t say money.”

He’d known, of course, that Danny would have a reason and the line about taking the house couldn’t have been more perfect. He was caught again by how Danny could make you believe anything, and it took him a moment to react, to taunt him a little. “You been practicing that speech haven’t you?” Besides, the Teen Beat cover boys comment had been harsh.

In the elevator on the way down from the 53rd floor, Rusty was hyper aware of the body next to his. The clean smell of the wool jacket, the undertone of Danny’s aftershave. He was lost in thoughts already untangling the unbelievable complexities of the job in front of them, and the fact that Danny was *back*. So, he was taken by surprise when Danny suddenly reached over and pulled him into a quick, almost harsh embrace. Impatient lips found his in a rough kiss that lasted mere seconds leaving Rusty with nothing more than an impression of heat, lust and something that tasted like longing. It happened so quickly that stepping out into the cool LA night he wondered if he’d imagined it.

They went to a bar after that, leaning against the polished mahogany talking of nothing, and watching the smoke curl around the edges of the room. He felt the smoky slide of whiskey down his throat and the burning anticipation of what was to follow.

His apartment in LA was nondescript, eminently forgettable, as befitted a con man. It hadn’t bothered him until tonight that everything was so generic, no personal touches. 

Four years and they were here again and the usually unflappable Rusty felt very much flapped.

“Nice place.” Was there a hint of mockery in Danny’s voice? His eyes though, in the muted light of streetlamps through the curtains seemed open, honest.

How do you trust a con man?

Why would you even try?

“It’s not much, but…”

“It’s where you keep your snacks?” His metabolism a running joke between them. His insatiable hunger that could be assuaged by so few things, one of which was standing in front of him for the first time in four years.

Four years.

He felt loose in his bones – not quite connected, the tendons and ligaments not functioning properly as he watched Danny walking toward him. It was always Danny who approached, after that first time.

“Are you …”

“Sure? Of course…I’ve been defending my virtue these past four years just so I could keep myself for you.” The mockery again, but underneath it something else.

Danny stalked him across the room. Moving slowly, prolonging the moment before actual contact. Rusty forced himself still, not so hard given how little control he felt like he had over his body right now. 

Then suddenly he was there, mere inches away and the heat of his body reached out and drifted around Rusty, weaving a web of desire that pulled him closer toward the flame he’d never been able to resist. A hand, rougher and more calloused than he remembered reached up and cupped his face. The touch starting gentle and then less so as Danny pulled him the final millimeter to him.

The night turned infinitely hotter and infinitely more complicated.

~ ~ ~ ~

_Las Vegas, NV_

It was stifling in Ruben’s garden – the Las Vegas heat merciless even in the somewhat Spring-like weather. Spring-like for the desert of course. Eating out there just one more of Ruben’s affectations; some weird combination of “healthiness”—the fresh air – and flaunting medical wisdom—he’d proudly announced he wasn’t wearing sunblock.

The conversation had proceeded exactly as they’d predicted. They’d reached the walk-away point. Ruben was genuinely apologetic.

“…we all go way back. And I owe you from the thing with the guy in the place, and I’ll never forget it.”

“That was our pleasure.” Danny’s voice smooth, as always perfect to the moment.

“I’d never been to Belize.” Just saying Belize made him want to smile in inappropriate ways. A codeword right out there in the open. 

Belize, of course, was where it all had all begun. 

~ ~ ~ ~

_Dangriga, Belize  
6 years previously_

A dark motel room, on the wrong side of the port town of Dangriga. A thriving metropolis of 10,000 citrus growers, artists, con artists and confused tourists. They were waiting for Ruben’s contact, who as it would turn out was already in the custody of the local authorities. At the time, though, they were simply waiting.

Sometimes Rusty felt like all he did was wait. So much of the con game is waiting. Patience. Slowly putting pieces into place, nudging reality just enough that your mark sees what you what him to see until five minutes after you’ve walked away with your take and disappeared into the crowd. You wait for him to take the bait, you wait for the right moment, and then you wait between cons, while your face disappears from people’s minds again.

You learned to wait. It was part of who you were. You waited for the next chance. The next game. You waited.

Lately, though, it seemed to Rusty that he was waiting for something else entirely. Something he wanted sharply but didn’t yet have a name for. He could feel it lurking around the corner. A sharp desire at odds with the way he played every other game. Something he wanted so badly that he could barely remember that you always played the game as though you could walk away, like you had nothing to lose. For once he wanted to stay.

But he simply waited.

Danny’s patience at the time wasn’t quite so finely honed. “Unbelievable. Only Ruben would send us half-way across the hemisphere in search of cut-rate black market citrus for his fucking casinos, when he’s sitting right next to fucking California and 10 million orange trees. Tell me again why we’re doing this? Why did we decide to do this ‘favor’ for Ruben? And while you’re at it, explain to me again we decided to this favor personally? We could have sent -”

“Jim was busy and so was Mel. Anyway, I’ve never been to Belize.” Rusty was torn between amusement and the idle urge to rile Danny further simply to help pass the time. 

The urge won. “Anyway, this is all your fault.”

“My fault? My fault? How the hell do you figure that?”

“If you hadn’t plugged in your razor…” He trailed off and began the count back: three, two, one…

Danny stopped in his tracks, the fury in his face fading a bit as the implication hit him, a tiny grin beginning. “You’re blaming me for the power outage?”

The power had gone out right after sundown, and given the day’s events, it wasn’t a great idea for them to be out wandering the streets. So there was nothing to do to pass the time except talk, drink a lot of the local tequila and play cards by half-assed candlelight. He had to admit that the half-assed candlelight did some rather nice things for Danny’s ass as he paced back and forth. He shook himself. When had he started to notice Danny’s ass? Damn, he’d really had much too much of the tequila.

Now Danny stopped, “Is there anything else you’d like to blame me for?”

“Well, I’ve often thought the demise of disco…”

A low growl was his only warning as Danny flung himself at Rusty, rolling them both onto the floor. The mock wrestling knocking over the flimsy chair and threatening the equally flimsy end table.

Rusty allowed himself to be rolled over and over and finally Danny had him pinned to the floor – the full length of his body pressed against him. The heat and hardness more exciting than he’d even allowed himself to imagine.

“Say Uncle.” Danny’s face close to his, the laughter in his voice laced with something else. Something Rusty very much hoped he recognized as he shocked them both by suddenly pulling his hands free and pressing their hips firmly together.

“What if I say something else?” The hard length of his erection an undeniable statement of its own.

Danny’s eyes glazed for a moment – confusion blending with an unthinking desire. His hips reflexively pushed back against Rusty’s and the younger man was surprised to realize that Danny, too, was responding to this closeness. This unexpected intimacy.

Danny seemed to be staring off toward some alien horizon. He drew a deep breath and started to shake his head. Rusty braced himself to make the appropriate joke to get them out of the moment, and was therefore completely unprepared for the kiss, and everything else that followed. 

Rusty often thought later that he should have sent Ruben a fruit basket or something, but it would have simply been too hard to explain.

Of course there was also the fact that Danny met Tess two weeks after they got back from Belize.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_Las Vegas  
A few days into the con_

Tess.

Jesus Fucking Christ. Tess was here in Vegas and Tess was here with Terry Benedict. This they did *not* need. 

Rusty was nearly blind with rage when the full implications of her presence hit him. Shit. Had Danny learned *nothing*? You do not run multi-million dollar games and risk 11 people’s lives for personal revenge. He barely made it back to the warehouse without running over several meandering tourists. 

Danny’s blind spot was people – the people he loved and trusted and who too often ran right over his heart and then he was left reeling, bruised and trying to find an explanation for the essential irrationality of human behavior. For as accomplished a con man as Danny was, for all that he preyed on exactly that irrationality, he’d never learned to handle it in his own life. 

He was also one of the last of the great romantics. He would throw away everything for the grand gesture and Tess was one of the grandest gestures there was. He’d had no choice but to admit it. She had looked good.

Confronting Danny he thought that he was a model of restraint given the complication Danny had introduced without telling anyone else, and later he would wonder if he had let him off the hook too easily. If he’d been too quick to believe that Danny could really balance the demands of the scheme against the demands of his heart. 

At the time he was trying to shake something that he desperately didn’t want to label jealousy and it left him a little irrational, too. There were too many pieces in play, too many moving targets to track and he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Still, watching Danny’s shoulders as he sauntered away, he wondered what decision he would make if he had to balance money against one particular person. 

He was reminded of something that had happened not too long after Belize. A drunken late night conversation with Danny after the first of his many fights with Tess. They’d met at a bar, and had finally been thrown out after last call. They’d wound up back in Rusty’s living room.

“Why’d she do it?”

Rusty had lost track of exactly what it was that Danny was lamenting. Some perceived betrayal by Tess, some failure to understand him. He tried to get his head back in the conversation – he’d been distracted by Danny’s hands. Those talented, surprisingly gentle hands. He recalled something about her storming out after Danny had been late one too many times.

“Does she have any idea what you do? Does she get the job?”

Danny looked appalled. “Of course not – I can’t have her knowing… I mean, what would she think? She’s a class act. I’m just..”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything, my friend. You are a world class con man, and don’t you forget it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not exactly something you put on a business card.”

“I did, one time.”

Danny was momentarily distracted from his rant about the perfidy of women. “You what?”

“It was a passing fancy. But they were great to hand out in bars. Of course, I put the Mayor’s Office telephone number on them.”

Danny shook his head. “Damn. You always were a crazy S.O.B.” He took another long drink of whiskey, lost in his melancholy. “Maybe I’m crazy, too. What would she ever see in me?”

Rusty just shook his head. “If she can’t see it, she doesn’t deserve it.”

“I wish you were right. I wish you were right.”

Danny had spent the night, snoring off his drunk on the couch, while Rusty watched him from the armchair. It had been just the epilogue of Danny’s struggle with this particular balancing act. 

This gig in Vegas, this vendetta against Benedict felt like some kind of finale. Rusty just hoped it wasn’t one of those dramas where the villain suddenly wins in the final act.

But in the end, they pulled it off. They hadn’t fully counted on Benedict calling the cops about Danny violating parole, but in a game this big, that was a relatively small set-back. 

~ ~ ~ ~

_Three to six months later  
New Jersey_

So they ended back where they began. Or perhaps they started again where they ended. Danny in a tux, walking out of a prison, and he couldn’t resist the wisecrack, “I hope you were the groom.” The Ted Nugent comeback wasn’t Danny’s best material, but he’d been in prison, so Rusty decided to give him a break. The look in his eye, the small quirk of his lips was the real answer.

And Tess was there in the backseat for Danny, but there was a wide horizon in front of them, and an endless array of possible combinations for the next throw of the dice. He was driving after all. He was setting the direction.

He drove on toward the sunset wondering what came next.

END


End file.
